At Santulan, we believe in the power of transformation and the strength of the human spirit. Our self-sustaining model for de-addiction goes beyond treatment — it nurtures hope, dignity, and long-term change. Each journey that begins here is a testament to our commitment, and we are deeply moved by the individuals who have turned their lives around through our program.
We would like to share a few heartfelt stories — stories that are both humbling and inspiring. These are not just testimonials; they are real experiences of people who arrived at Santulan carrying the weight of addiction, pain, and uncertainty. With care, support, and structure, they took charge of their lives, rediscovered their purpose, and walked a path of recovery and renewal.
These stories reflect the essence of Santulan’s unique approach — one that empowers individuals not only to break free from addiction but to build a future filled with hope and stability. Their courage reminds us why we do what we do, and why every life matters.
We invite you to read these stories, to witness the transformation, and to see the strength that lies in healing — together.
Arin, age 33
A Journey from Despair to Dignity: Arin’s Story of Redemption at Santulan
When Arin first walked through the gates of Santulan, his demeanor spoke louder than words ever could. His eyes were wary, his body language closed off, and his presence marked by an anxious yet compliant disposition. Doubt lingered around him like a cloud. But beneath the quiet exterior was a man who had weathered emotional tempests, suffered profound loss, and carried a yearning — not for escape, but for restoration.
Arin’s story begins long before Santulan. In January 2016, he was admitted to Renaissance Foundation in Pune by his wife. It was the first formal attempt at addressing his alcohol addiction, a struggle that had begun to consume his life after the deaths of both his parents due to illness. The grief was overwhelming. Without the emotional tools to cope, Arin found himself spiraling into dependence, his only solace the bottle that numbed his growing loneliness.
At the time, Arin was married and had a young son. His family, recognizing the trajectory of his condition, intervened. Though he emerged from rehabilitation clean, the grip of addiction is rarely loosened with a single effort. In December 2019, following a heated altercation with his wife and amid financial turmoil in his business, Arin relapsed. His father’s shop, once a symbol of legacy, was taken over by a cousin, and he found himself alone in the midst of personal and professional collapse. That sense of isolation, recurring and relentless, became a trigger that ushered in another relapse in March 2020.
He picked up odd jobs in an attempt to stay afloat — assisting in shops, managing cleaning and organization tasks — yet the weight of loss, unmet expectations, and broken connections would inevitably steer him back toward alcohol. A pattern had emerged: periods of sobriety lasting five to seven months, followed by 15–20-day binges, inpatient recovery, and then another attempt to begin again. The loop seemed unbreakable, until one day, Arin chose to walk toward something different — Santulan.
Santulan was unlike any center he had known. It was an open de-addiction space, with no locks or forced confinement. For Arin, that meant one thing — the onus of recovery was his own. There was no external pressure, only personal accountability. It was a choice to stay, to engage, to transform.
Today, Arin’s biological family includes his wife, now living apart with their 10-year-old son and her mother. Though he yearns for reconciliation, they remain distant — a pain that still weighs heavily on him. Yet, it is within the walls of Santulan that Arin has found a different kind of family, one rooted in shared struggle, mutual support, and collective healing.
At Santulan, he began to rebuild himself from the ground up. He learned to cook, clean, and prioritize his health — daily tasks that may seem simple but became the foundation of his new life. When he first arrived, he volunteered to deliver tiffin boxes, one of the main income sources that sustains Santulan’s self-sufficient model. He had no money to offer, but he had an unwavering will to reclaim his life. And that was enough.
The structured routine at Santulan provided Arin with something his life outside had never truly given him — stability. Every morning begins at 6 AM with communal prayer, followed by a light workout and designated duties such as cooking, cleaning, and shopping. Afternoons are spent reading Alcoholics Anonymous literature, taking self-inventories, and attending group therapy. Regular visits to Sasoon Hospital ensure physical health is also monitored. Mealtimes are shared, and the sense of rhythm, of purpose, is palpable.
The key to his sustained sobriety, Arin shares, lies in his strict adherence to the 12-step program. He draws strength from phrases like “one day at a time” and “today, we have a choice.” These mantras, repeated often, have become anchors in his life. One particular tool, the HALT method, has had a profound impact. HALT stands for Hungry, Angry, Lonely, and Tired — four emotional states that often precede relapse. Whenever he finds himself overwhelmed, Arin stops and evaluates: Is he hungry? Angry? Lonely? Tired? Then, rather than reacting impulsively, he takes mindful action. This simple but powerful check-in has helped him remain grounded during moments of emotional upheaval.
What sets Santulan apart, in Arin’s eyes, is not just the freedom it offers, but the responsibility it nurtures. Here, sobriety is not enforced — it is chosen. It is respected. It is protected through community and care. And most importantly, it is maintained not by fear, but by faith — in oneself, in others, and in the power of healing.
Today, Arin is not merely surviving — he is giving back. He mentors others at the center, offering guidance drawn from his own lived experiences. He continues to participate in every aspect of life at Santulan with quiet commitment. Though he still longs to be reunited with his family, he does not let that yearning deter his progress. He has chosen to stay the course, to prove through action that change is possible.
He has grown emotionally, spiritually, and mentally. He avoids situations and interactions that could stir emotional turmoil. He believes in the power of prayer — a daily act of surrender and strength. In his own words, “An alcoholic’s mind is like a bad neighborhood. You should never go there alone.” That’s why he remains in close contact with his mentor, Mr. Dwijen Smart, whose guidance has been instrumental in helping Arin maintain his sobriety.
Arin’s story is not one of overnight transformation, but of persistence. It is a testament to the idea that recovery is a process — often slow, occasionally painful, but always worthwhile. At Santulan, he has found not just refuge, but renewal. He has discovered not just sobriety, but self-worth.
And above all, he has proven that even in the depths of despair, the human spirit — when nurtured with compassion, structure, and purpose — can rise again.
Mandar, Age 34
From Dependence to Purpose: A Doctor’s Redemption Through Sobriety
I am a doctor by profession and, as I write this, I’ve been living in sobriety for the past one and a half years. While my current life is grounded in balance and responsibility, the path to this stability has been long and fraught with hardship. My journey with substance use began innocently — at the age of 18 — in the company of friends and a bottle of beer.
It was a casual evening. I consumed approximately 80 ml of beer, enough to give me a pleasant high, stimulate my appetite, and lull me into a night of restful sleep. That moment, seemingly harmless, registered itself deep within my psyche. The ease, the comfort, and the temporary escape became feelings I longed to replicate. It didn’t take long for that occasional indulgence to turn into a pattern.
Initially, I consumed alcohol every three to four months, often paired with non-vegetarian food and always followed by peaceful sleep. Gradually, the beer gave way to whisky — a transition that occurred without conscious intent. It felt natural, and with time, it became routine.
After graduation, I began earning and no longer relied on pocket money. I also wasn’t required to contribute financially to the household, which gave me a certain freedom. That freedom, unfortunately, manifested in excess. Lavish parties became commonplace. I was financially independent and could afford to indulge without limits. Soon, however, I began preferring solitude over company. Drinking alone meant not having to share the bottle. This shift was subtle but significant — a quiet withdrawal from social connection.
Eventually, I began drinking in the mornings. It didn’t seem alarming at the time; I maintained limits — two to three times a day, small quantities — and because I wasn’t showing overt physical symptoms, I convinced myself I was in control. But that illusion did not last. Over time, the damage began to surface.
I lost interest in food, surviving on minimal snacks and largely abandoning regular meals. Hangovers became frequent, headaches persistent. What followed was a phase of severe withdrawal. My body, now dependent on alcohol, demanded it at regular intervals. The emotional toll grew, and with it, the financial strain. I began stealing money from home. I withdrew cash from my wife’s ATM card without her knowledge. My professional life began to unravel. My medical practice, once a source of pride, suffered deeply.
Domestically, things were no better. My relationship with my family deteriorated. I lost my father during this period, a loss that should have drawn me closer to my loved ones. Instead, I distanced myself further. I failed to care for my ailing mother. What had begun as a personal habit had now become a family illness. Everyone around me suffered.
Soon, depression set in. I lost all confidence in myself. The impact of my addiction was no longer just emotional or financial — it was now visible. Society could see it. Colleagues, neighbors, and acquaintances knew. The stigma of alcoholism, particularly as a practicing doctor, weighed heavily. In an effort to mask it, I turned to alternatives — sleeping pills, cough syrup (Corex), and other sedatives. I thought these would be less noticeable. But they only made things worse. I was deteriorating — emotionally, spiritually, physically, and financially.
It was at this breaking point that I was admitted to Renaissance, a rehabilitation center. That decision, one made in desperation, marked the beginning of my transformation. It was at Renaissance that I met Mr. Dwijen Smart, a leading expert in de-addiction and rehabilitation therapy. His approach was not clinical alone — it was compassionate, structured, and rooted in deep understanding of the human psyche and the dynamics of addiction.
Through his guidance, and with the support of the staff at Renaissance, I slowly began to emerge from the fog that had engulfed me for years. I was introduced to the principles of Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), and for the first time, I heard the phrase that now guides my every day: “One day at a time.”
Recovery, I learned, isn’t about dramatic change overnight. It is about choosing, every single day, to do better — for oneself, and for those around us. It is about showing up, even when it feels impossible. And so, I did.
Over the course of my stay, I gained something I had lost long ago — self-belief. I learned to live without the crutch of addictive substances. I regained my mental peace, which had been elusive for so long. Slowly, my confidence returned. I resumed my work as a doctor and began rebuilding the trust of those I had hurt, knowingly or unknowingly.
Today, I stand as a professional once again committed to his duties, a father trying to mend bonds, a son who now mourns his parents with clarity and sincerity, and a husband working to regain his place in his partner’s trust. I am not yet where I want to be, but I am on the path — and that, in itself, is a victory.
What I’ve come to understand is that addiction is not a moral failing. It is a disease. One that is misunderstood, often mocked, and widely stigmatized — especially in our society. But like any illness, it requires diagnosis, treatment, support, and compassion. The scorn and judgment that addicts face only serve to deepen the wound.
Sobriety has given me a second chance at life. It has allowed me to serve again — not just as a doctor, but as a human being who understands pain, vulnerability, and the strength it takes to rise again. I now advocate for awareness, understanding, and treatment of addiction as a health condition, not a character flaw.
To anyone reading this who may be struggling, I want to say: you are not alone. There is hope. There is help. And with the right guidance, the right environment, and the willingness to change — recovery is not just possible, it is powerful.
My life today is guided by principles, routine, and faith. I practice the program diligently. I attend meetings. I pray. I stay connected to mentors like Mr. Dwijen Smart, whose wisdom continues to light my way.
In the end, this journey has not only restored my life — it has deepened it. It has taught me that true strength lies not in avoiding pain, but in confronting it, learning from it, and walking forward — one day at a time.
Prakash’s Story
Prakash (Name Changed) belonged to a well-educated family, and in fact is well-educated himself. He was fortunate enough to have never faced poverty. But alcohol is impartial. It can make an addict out of anyone.
Prakash dabbled in alcohol in his college days for a bit of fun nothing more. This dabbling evolved into addiction. Prakash however remained oblivious to his own addiction. He lived in denial. He got married. It went quite well for a couple years but due to his drinking he was unable to father children. This caused a rift in his marriage. They started fighting regularly. Even when they somehow conceived a child, it was miscarried. He used this as a reason to keep drinking uncontrollably. He changed a lot of jobs. All of these factors together worsened his addiction. He lost jobs and his relationship with his family deteriorated. He made the rounds of multiple rehabilitation centers in Pune but none worked out for him. None helped him make a lasting change.
He was admitted to Santulan Deaddiction and Rehabilitation Center against his wishes. In the facility he remained his old “self-centered” self and refused to accept that he had any problem at all. Upon being discharged he relapsed and started taking out all his pent-up resentment directed at his family members. He blamed them for putting him in a rehab center.
Whenever he was released he would fall back into his old patterns and routines. He would start associating with his old drinking buddies again. He refused to make a change or accept his shortcomings. His family gave him an ultimatum – either change for the better, or leave.
On his final admission to the facility, working with the counselors, he was finally able to accept that he had a problem. Until he accepted that, he could not work on overcoming the disease. He began doing little chores around the office after a while and taking small responsibilities. The founder of the facility- Mr. Dwijen Smart arranged for a job interview and he was selected.
Now, he works under a C.A focusing on his journey to sobriety and staying sober. He follows-up regularly and stays in touch with the rehab.
Sagar’s Story
The Turning Point: Prakash’s Journey from Denial to Redemption
Addiction does not discriminate. It does not pause to consider one’s background, education, or privileges. It does not care for financial security or family values. It simply finds a way in. Such is the story of Prakash (name changed), a man raised in a well-educated family, himself a graduate of a reputed institution, and someone who never knew the sting of poverty. Yet, despite these advantages, alcohol found its way into his life — and nearly took it over.
For Prakash, alcohol began the way it often does: casually, socially, and seemingly harmless. During his college years, drinking was more a symbol of camaraderie than indulgence. A bottle passed between friends, laughter echoing through hostel corridors — it was all a part of the youthful experience. But what began as occasional revelry gradually grew into habitual dependence, a subtle but insidious evolution that he refused to acknowledge.
Even as his consumption increased, Prakash remained in denial. He believed he was in control. His academic achievements and social manners disguised the internal storm. He carried on, oblivious to the slow erosion taking place beneath the surface. Life continued — he married a woman who loved and believed in him, and for a short while, their marriage seemed happy.
However, addiction does not stay hidden for long. The cracks began to show. Their attempts to start a family were thwarted, and medical investigations suggested Prakash’s alcohol dependency had compromised his fertility. This painful revelation became a turning point, not toward healing, but deeper despair. He was unable to face the truth, and instead of seeking help, he used it as an excuse to drink more.
The tension within the marriage escalated. Arguments replaced conversation. Resentment grew in silence. And when, by what felt like a miracle, they conceived, tragedy struck again — the pregnancy ended in a miscarriage. It broke something in both of them, and Prakash, overwhelmed with grief and guilt, turned further inward. Alcohol became his anesthetic.
He began losing jobs. What had once been a promising professional path now became a string of short-lived positions and unexplained resignations. Employers began to notice his unreliability, and his performance deteriorated. His family watched helplessly as he unraveled — the ambitious, intelligent man they knew slipping away into someone they no longer recognized.
In a desperate attempt to help him, his family enrolled him in several rehabilitation centers across Pune. None of them had a lasting impact. Prakash remained unmoved, closed off, and cynical. He would complete his treatment only to relapse soon after, slipping right back into the same toxic patterns. He reconnected with old drinking companions, frequenting familiar spots that reinforced his addiction. Any attempts at conversation or intervention by his family were met with defiance and blame. He refused to take accountability, convinced that he was the victim in a family that simply didn’t understand him.
Eventually, his loved ones reached their limit. They issued an ultimatum: either commit to recovery — truly, wholeheartedly — or walk away from the family. With no options left, Prakash was admitted to Santulan Deaddiction and Rehabilitation Center. He did not enter willingly. In fact, he arrived bitter and withdrawn, harboring resentment against those who had “forced” him into treatment. He remained aloof, self-centered, and unwilling to acknowledge that he needed help.
At Santulan, nothing was forced. There were no locked gates or coercive rules. The center functions on a model of self-responsibility. The residents are expected to be in charge of their own healing. For someone like Prakash, this was both confronting and liberating. In the initial days, he resisted everything — group sessions, duties, self-reflection. He kept to himself, maintained a wall of indifference, and made no effort to engage.
But time, coupled with the compassionate yet structured environment, began to do its quiet work. Under the guidance of the founder, Mr. Dwijen Smart, and with consistent support from counselors, Prakash began to lower his defenses. The breakthrough did not come through confrontation, but through gentle insistence — the routine of the center, the shared meals, the silent mornings, the rhythm of prayer and group therapy.
And then, one day, something shifted. It was not a dramatic epiphany, but a quiet acceptance. Prakash, for the first time, admitted to himself that he had a problem. It was a painful admission, but also a freeing one. Acceptance, he realized, was the first step toward recovery. Until he faced the truth, no amount of external effort could change his internal landscape.
With this newfound awareness, Prakash began to change — slowly, cautiously, but sincerely. He started participating in the daily routines at the center. He took on small responsibilities, such as helping with chores and assisting around the office. These seemingly trivial tasks began to instill in him a sense of purpose, a rhythm to his day, and a pride in simple achievements.
Recognizing this growth, Mr. Smart stepped in again — this time with an opportunity. He arranged a job interview for Prakash with a Chartered Accountant. The interview went well, and Prakash was offered the position. For the first time in years, he had something to look forward to — a chance not just to work, but to rebuild, contribute, and begin anew.
Today, Prakash continues his journey of sobriety. He works diligently under the guidance of the C.A., and remains in regular contact with the team at Santulan. He follows up, attends meetings, and remains anchored in the principles that once saved him from despair. His progress is not marked by grand declarations but by steady steps — staying sober one day at a time.
Prakash’s story is not just one of recovery, but of resilience. It is a reminder that change is possible, even after years of denial and dysfunction. What made the difference in his case was not just therapy, but the presence of a place that believed in self-responsibility, that treated addiction as a disease rather than a moral failing, and that offered not just shelter, but a path.
Santulan gave Prakash more than recovery — it gave him dignity, direction, and hope. And in return, he walks the path not only for himself, but as a quiet testament to what transformation looks like when met with the right support.
Nitin, Age 43
The Road to Redemption: A Journey Back from the Brink of Addiction
For much of my early life, everything moved in a predictable, comfortable rhythm. I completed my schooling and pursued my graduation with diligence and purpose. My hard work paid off when I secured a respectable position with Indian Aluminium in Mumbai. It was a dream start to adult life — a good job, stability, and a place to live within the company township. Life in the township was vibrant. We had a tight-knit community, frequent cultural events, and meaningful social interactions — all of which I engaged in wholeheartedly and, notably, without alcohol.
At the time, I never imagined that something as simple as a social drink could one day derail the very foundation of my life.
It all began on a casual outing to Gorai Beach with friends. That day, I tasted alcohol for the first time. It seemed harmless, a part of the celebration. I remember the warmth of the drink, the laughter of friends, and the breeze of the sea — a perfect evening. Initially, drinking was occasional, reserved for holidays or festivals. It was, or so I believed, entirely under control. Life was still on track. I was married to a wonderful woman, and everything appeared to be going well.
But as the pressures of life began to mount, the cracks started to appear.
Disagreements with my wife became more frequent. We clashed over trivial matters at first, but those arguments grew deeper and more personal. I found myself increasingly unable to cope with the emotional strain. Alcohol, once a festive indulgence, now became a refuge. It dulled the noise in my mind, quieted the tensions, and, I thought, gave me a temporary sense of peace.
Slowly, subtly, alcohol moved from the periphery of my life to its center. I didn’t recognize the shift as it was happening. It began to occupy more time, more attention, more emotional space than my family or my responsibilities. Looking back now, I can see that what I mistook for comfort was actually isolation — a slow retreat from reality, from love, and from my own identity.
One incident remains etched in my memory, both as a moment of profound shame and as the turning point in my journey. My wife had just given birth to our first child — a baby boy. I was overjoyed when I received the news, and in what I now see as a tragic misunderstanding of celebration, I set off to her parents’ house, two bottles of liquor in hand. I consumed both on the way, arriving in a drunken stupor. Instead of joy, I brought embarrassment and heartache to a moment that should have been among the most beautiful in our lives. My wife was devastated, and her family deeply hurt. That was the first time she spoke of sending me to a de-addiction center.
I agreed. Perhaps a part of me knew I needed help, though I wasn’t yet ready to confront the full extent of my addiction. Following treatment, I managed to stay sober for nearly a year. It was a time of fragile hope. My family was cautiously optimistic, and I too believed that perhaps I had turned a corner. But without continued support and without a change in mindset, I was still vulnerable. The relapse, when it came, was swift and overwhelming.
I spiraled further than before. My drinking became even more excessive, and this time, the consequences were more severe. My wife, unable to bear the pain any longer, left me and returned to her parents’ home. Even my young son, who once looked at me with wonder, stopped addressing me as “Daddy.” My father, still holding onto hope, took me back to the same de-addiction center — only to be turned away. I had become a familiar face there, and not in a way that inspired confidence.
It was at this critical juncture that my father suggested a different path. He brought me to the Renaissance Foundation, a center founded and led by Mr. Dwijen Smart. As fate would have it, I had encountered Mr. Smart once before — during a brief stint at my previous rehab center. He remembered me. But more importantly, he saw something in me that even I had stopped believing in: potential.
From the very beginning of my time at Renaissance, the approach was different. Mr. Smart didn’t just see me as an addict. He saw me as someone suffering from a chronic, progressive, and treatable disease — addiction. For the first time, I was told, with clarity and compassion, that I wasn’t a morally weak person but someone dealing with a non-curable condition that required daily management, not judgment.
Mr. Smart became more than a counselor to me. He became a mentor and a father figure — someone who challenged me while also supporting me. Under his guidance, I was introduced to a structured routine, peer support systems, group therapy, and the principles of Alcoholics Anonymous. I slowly began to rediscover discipline, purpose, and self-worth. Most importantly, I was taught to take life one day at a time — not to dwell on the failures of the past or the fears of the future.
Today, I stand three years into sobriety. Every single day is a victory — a conscious choice to stay committed to a new way of living. One of the most beautiful outcomes of this journey has been the reconciliation with my son. For a long time, he had stopped calling me “Daddy.” It was a word that had disappeared from our lives, replaced by silence. But about two years ago, he started using it again. That single word — “Daddy” — carries more weight, more meaning, and more healing than anything I can describe. It is, for me, a symbol of redemption.
My relationship with my wife remains a work in progress. She has seen the change, and I continue to earn back her trust every day. I know now that sobriety is not a destination but a lifelong path — one that requires humility, commitment, and support. I remain grounded in the tools I’ve learned, especially the importance of community and self-awareness. The journey hasn’t been easy, but it has been worth every step.
Santulan gave me not just a second chance at life, but a renewed sense of identity. I am no longer defined by my addiction but by the resilience I’ve built through recovery. I walk forward not as a man burdened by the past, but as one hopeful for the future — with the unwavering belief that it’s never too late to begin again.
Rahul, Age 44
The Road to Redemption: A Journey Back from the Brink of Addiction
For much of my early life, everything moved in a predictable, comfortable rhythm. I completed my schooling and pursued my graduation with diligence and purpose. My hard work paid off when I secured a respectable position with Indian Aluminium in Mumbai. It was a dream start to adult life — a good job, stability, and a place to live within the company township. Life in the township was vibrant. We had a tight-knit community, frequent cultural events, and meaningful social interactions — all of which I engaged in wholeheartedly and, notably, without alcohol.
At the time, I never imagined that something as simple as a social drink could one day derail the very foundation of my life.
It all began on a casual outing to Gorai Beach with friends. That day, I tasted alcohol for the first time. It seemed harmless, a part of the celebration. I remember the warmth of the drink, the laughter of friends, and the breeze of the sea — a perfect evening. Initially, drinking was occasional, reserved for holidays or festivals. It was, or so I believed, entirely under control. Life was still on track. I was married to a wonderful woman, and everything appeared to be going well.
But as the pressures of life began to mount, the cracks started to appear.
Disagreements with my wife became more frequent. We clashed over trivial matters at first, but those arguments grew deeper and more personal. I found myself increasingly unable to cope with the emotional strain. Alcohol, once a festive indulgence, now became a refuge. It dulled the noise in my mind, quieted the tensions, and, I thought, gave me a temporary sense of peace.
Slowly, subtly, alcohol moved from the periphery of my life to its center. I didn’t recognize the shift as it was happening. It began to occupy more time, more attention, more emotional space than my family or my responsibilities. Looking back now, I can see that what I mistook for comfort was actually isolation — a slow retreat from reality, from love, and from my own identity.
One incident remains etched in my memory, both as a moment of profound shame and as the turning point in my journey. My wife had just given birth to our first child — a baby boy. I was overjoyed when I received the news, and in what I now see as a tragic misunderstanding of celebration, I set off to her parents’ house, two bottles of liquor in hand. I consumed both on the way, arriving in a drunken stupor. Instead of joy, I brought embarrassment and heartache to a moment that should have been among the most beautiful in our lives. My wife was devastated, and her family deeply hurt. That was the first time she spoke of sending me to a de-addiction center.
I agreed. Perhaps a part of me knew I needed help, though I wasn’t yet ready to confront the full extent of my addiction. Following treatment, I managed to stay sober for nearly a year. It was a time of fragile hope. My family was cautiously optimistic, and I too believed that perhaps I had turned a corner. But without continued support and without a change in mindset, I was still vulnerable. The relapse, when it came, was swift and overwhelming.
I spiraled further than before. My drinking became even more excessive, and this time, the consequences were more severe. My wife, unable to bear the pain any longer, left me and returned to her parents’ home. Even my young son, who once looked at me with wonder, stopped addressing me as “Daddy.” My father, still holding onto hope, took me back to the same de-addiction center — only to be turned away. I had become a familiar face there, and not in a way that inspired confidence.
It was at this critical juncture that my father suggested a different path. He brought me to the Renaissance Foundation, a center founded and led by Mr. Dwijen Smart. As fate would have it, I had encountered Mr. Smart once before — during a brief stint at my previous rehab center. He remembered me. But more importantly, he saw something in me that even I had stopped believing in: potential.
From the very beginning of my time at Renaissance, the approach was different. Mr. Smart didn’t just see me as an addict. He saw me as someone suffering from a chronic, progressive, and treatable disease — addiction. For the first time, I was told, with clarity and compassion, that I wasn’t a morally weak person but someone dealing with a non-curable condition that required daily management, not judgment.
Mr. Smart became more than a counselor to me. He became a mentor and a father figure — someone who challenged me while also supporting me. Under his guidance, I was introduced to a structured routine, peer support systems, group therapy, and the principles of Alcoholics Anonymous. I slowly began to rediscover discipline, purpose, and self-worth. Most importantly, I was taught to take life one day at a time — not to dwell on the failures of the past or the fears of the future.
Today, I stand three years into sobriety. Every single day is a victory — a conscious choice to stay committed to a new way of living. One of the most beautiful outcomes of this journey has been the reconciliation with my son. For a long time, he had stopped calling me “Daddy.” It was a word that had disappeared from our lives, replaced by silence. But about two years ago, he started using it again. That single word — “Daddy” — carries more weight, more meaning, and more healing than anything I can describe. It is, for me, a symbol of redemption.
My relationship with my wife remains a work in progress. She has seen the change, and I continue to earn back her trust every day. I know now that sobriety is not a destination but a lifelong path — one that requires humility, commitment, and support. I remain grounded in the tools I’ve learned, especially the importance of community and self-awareness. The journey hasn’t been easy, but it has been worth every step.
Santulan gave me not just a second chance at life, but a renewed sense of identity. I am no longer defined by my addiction but by the resilience I’ve built through recovery. I walk forward not as a man burdened by the past, but as one hopeful for the future — with the unwavering belief that it’s never too late to begin again.
Satish, Age 62
A Journey from Despair to Redemption: Embracing Sobriety through Santulan
I was born into a humble yet deeply principled family, rooted in strong moral values and guided by resilience. My father, a man of great integrity and perseverance, migrated from the serene Konkan region to the bustling city of Mumbai, carrying with him a solemn promise to his own father—that he would pursue his education and, once established, bring his siblings to the city for a better life. True to his word, my father not only carved a future for himself but also uplifted the entire family. He got married and became the proud father of four children, including me.
Growing up, our economic situation was modest. We lived within our means, and though we never lacked love or values, material luxuries were beyond our reach. I vividly recall observing my school friends enjoying things that my father simply couldn’t afford to provide. This disparity, though unspoken, seeded an inferiority complex in me. I feared rejection and judgment from my peers, which slowly pushed me into a shell. I became reserved and distant, avoiding social interactions, and finding solace only in the loyal companionship of my pet dog—my only true friend during those formative years.
However, as time passed, my father’s hard work bore fruit. His career flourished, he began traveling internationally, and our financial condition significantly improved. With this newfound prosperity came a shift in lifestyle. Social gatherings and parties became more frequent, and alcohol was often present. I remember watching adults drink and appear to enjoy themselves, laughing and bonding in a way that seemed both intriguing and liberating. My curiosity about alcohol began to intensify.
In retrospect, I recognize that my addictive tendencies were seeded early—perhaps as far back as seventh or eighth grade. My first clandestine drink was taken from a locked cabinet, diluted with water to avoid detection. It was an act of both rebellion and curiosity. By the time I reached matriculation, these secret indulgences had become habitual. I started drinking regularly, albeit in small quantities.
Emotionally, I was grappling with a sense of suppression. I felt misunderstood by elders, restricted and underestimated. My response was to adopt an attitude of defiance. I became increasingly arrogant, pushing back against authority while continuing to drink. This emotional undercurrent of rebellion, coupled with substance use, laid the groundwork for what would become a destructive pattern in my life.
After graduating, when asked about my career aspirations, I expressed a desire to become an entrepreneur. With the support of my family, I launched a small manufacturing unit. In the beginning, I worked with immense dedication. The venture showed promise. However, my drinking continued alongside. The balance soon tipped, and alcohol began to occupy more mental and emotional space than my business. My commitment wavered. Gradually, the factory became a burden rather than a source of purpose. I neglected its operations, and before long, I had to shut it down.
From 2000 to 2011, my professional life became a carousel of instability. I jumped from one job to another, each new beginning marred by the shadow of addiction. My relapses were frequent and increasingly severe. Despite numerous interventions and emotional appeals from my family, I remained trapped in a cycle of denial and self-destruction. Eventually, they could bear no more. With heavy hearts, they cut ties with me, casting me out of the house.
What followed was a descent into utter destitution. I roamed the streets, penniless and broken. I resorted to begging. I committed petty offenses to survive. I lived in the margins of society, a shell of the man I once aspired to be. The loneliness was profound. I was not only physically unrecognizable but emotionally devastated. This period represents the darkest chapter of my life—a time when I had lost all hope, dignity, and purpose.
But even in the depths of despair, there can be a flicker of light. I had previously come into contact with Mr. Dwijen Smart, the founder of the Renaissance Foundation and Santulan De-addiction Centre. I remembered his compassionate approach and deep understanding of addiction not as a moral failing, but as a disease that could be managed with the right support. With nowhere else to turn, I approached Santulan.
Entering Santulan marked the beginning of a new life. The environment was one of care, structure, and non-judgment. Through intensive group therapy, one-on-one counseling sessions, interactions with psychiatrists and psychologists, and the unwavering support of the staff, I began to understand the nature of my condition. I wasn’t alone, and I wasn’t beyond help.
Under Mr. Smart’s guidance, I slowly began to rebuild my life from the ground up. Santulan helped me strip away the layers of guilt, shame, and self-hatred that had accumulated over the years. The focus was on holistic healing—mental, emotional, and physical. I learned to face my inner demons with courage and to take responsibility for my actions. Most importantly, I learned that recovery is a lifelong journey, taken one day at a time.
Today, I have been sober for eight years. That sentence carries a world of meaning. Sobriety has brought clarity, peace, and a deep sense of gratitude. My life, once marred by chaos and despair, is now marked by stability and contentment. I no longer define myself by my past mistakes but by the strength I found in overcoming them.
Santulan is more than a rehabilitation center—it is the cornerstone of my transformation. It is the foundation upon which I rebuilt my sense of self and purpose. I continue to engage with the recovery community, share my story, and support others who are struggling. My journey stands as a testament to the power of perseverance, community, and compassionate intervention.
To anyone battling addiction, know this: no matter how far you have fallen, there is always a way back. Seek help. Reach out. Walk through the doors of Santulan or Renaissance Foundation. You will not be turned away. There is a new life waiting—and it begins with a single step.
Sunil, Age 57
I come from a defence background, with both my father and I having served in the Army. Growing up, I was always surrounded by the presence of alcohol in our household, though it never struck me as something either glamorous or sinister. In fact, I considered it to be part of the social fabric of life, a drink shared among friends after a long day’s work, a tradition that many men I knew adhered to. I had a carefree and happy childhood, lacking nothing that I truly needed. However, the early death of my father was a significant setback for me. I was very close to him, and his passing left a void in my life that I struggled to fill. This loss led us to migrate to Pune, where I pursued further education.
During my college years, I maintained a healthy and disciplined lifestyle, staying away from alcohol. It wasn’t until I was commissioned into the Army that I began to drink socially. As I adapted to the rigors of military life, I found that drinking was a common social activity among my peers, and I too embraced it, finding it an effective way to unwind after the pressures of Army life.
This marked the beginning of what I would later recognize as a pattern in my relationship with alcohol: an attempt to cope with life’s stresses through moderation. Eventually, I entered the second phase of my life when I got married while still serving in the Army. My decision to leave the Army was motivated by a desire to provide a more secure future for my family, leading me to take a position with Exide Industries, a move I believed would offer both personal and professional stability.
In my new life, I initially thrived at work and was able to enjoy certain comforts, such as playing squash and having a drink with friends at the club after a long day. However, the dynamics at home began to create significant strain. My wife and I came from different cultural backgrounds, and the expectations placed upon me by her family created a sense of tension. My father-in-law frequently urged me to start my own business, but I was not ready to take on such a venture. The pressure from my wife, who would often drag me to her parents’ house after work, only amplified my feelings of frustration. It seemed that the conversation would inevitably shift towards business, and I found myself retreating further into my own space, avoiding these discussions. Despite my growing resentment, my wife would continue to press me about her father’s advice.
At the time, I came from an upper-middle-class family, and I strongly believed that it was important for my wife to contribute financially to our household by working, which she had not done. This created additional pressure for me to succeed in my career. As I worked harder to meet these expectations, I found myself seeking an escape through alcohol. Initially, it was just an occasional drink after work, but gradually, my consumption began to increase. The stress of the constant nagging and the strain on my relationship affected my ability to focus, and I began neglecting my work responsibilities, though I made an effort to refrain from drinking during the mornings.
After some time, I transitioned into a role at Tata Group, where I continued to do well professionally. However, the emotional pressure from my personal life—especially the constant urging from my wife to pursue business—drove me to drink more heavily. What began as an occasional drink after work turned into a daily habit. Eventually, my boss at Tata suggested that I engage in corrupt practices, a proposition I refused to entertain. As a result, I lost my job, and the situation only worsened from there. It was during this phase that I began drinking throughout the day: in the morning, afternoon, and night. The psychological toll was immense. I found myself physically and emotionally depleted, and my financial situation also began to deteriorate.
During this period, my relationship with my family, particularly with my brother, became increasingly strained. Though my brother would often come to visit me while I was drunk, positioning himself as a helpful figure, he failed to offer any meaningful support during my divorce, which only deepened my sense of isolation. It was then that I sought help and admitted myself to a de-addiction center. I stayed sober for two years after that experience, but I could not maintain my sobriety. Despite my initial success in staying clean, I relapsed.
When I got a good job again, purchased a new car, and seemed to be doing well, I allowed myself to believe I was in control. But the unresolved guilt from the pain I had caused my mother, combined with the anger I felt towards my brother for his lack of support, led me back into a cycle of binge drinking. This time, I lost my job once more. The recurring ups and downs of my life as an alcoholic were never easy to bear, even with my mother’s unwavering support.
Eventually, I found myself seeking help once more. It was through my connection with Dwijen Smart, whom I knew from my previous experiences, that I was introduced to Renaissance, a place where I could receive the support I needed. Alongside the guidance of Dwijen and the unshakable support from my mother, I found strength in fighting my addiction. I made progress, but the emotional turbulence within me remained a constant challenge. Even today, I struggle with periodic bouts of binge drinking, happening every four to six months, as I continue to battle my inner demons.
Yet, despite these setbacks, I have made a conscious effort to confront my struggles, one day at a time. My journey has been long and fraught with challenges, but with the guidance of Dwijen and the love and support of my mother, I am learning to cope with the ups and downs of life. Though I may not be free from the temptation of alcohol, I am determined to stay on the path to recovery, working each day to overcome the emotional turmoil that has so often led me astray.
Kunda (co-dependent)
My son, Sunil, has always been a calm, disciplined, and sensible individual, displaying maturity well beyond his years. Since childhood, he exhibited a deep sense of responsibility and was notably reserved, preferring quiet contemplation over excessive socialization. He shared an especially close bond with his father, the late Wing Commander V.L. Paranjpe, who served with distinction in the Indian Air Force. The sudden and untimely passing of his father during his service was a profound loss that had a lasting impact on Sunil. It was a blow that not only affected him emotionally but also marked a significant turning point in our family’s life.
After the death of my husband, I made the decision to move to Pune with my two sons, seeking a fresh start and a stable environment for them to continue their education and grow. Sunil, ever the dedicated and focused individual, completed his BSc and then set his sights on the UPSC exam. His resolve to serve the nation led him to join the Army through the Officers Training Academy (OTA) in Chennai, marking the beginning of a distinguished chapter in his life.
However, as he grew older, around the age of 28 or 29, I began to broach the subject of marriage with him. Sunil, though not disinterested in the idea of companionship, was not particularly eager to settle down. He had always been independent and preferred to live life at his own pace, focusing on his career and personal growth. Eventually, in 1994, Sunil married, although it was a decision that, over time, would come to have profound consequences on his life.
After his marriage, Sunil made the decision to leave the Army and seek a more stable career in the private sector. He joined Exide Industries in the Administration and Security division, where he initially excelled and was progressing well. However, despite his professional success, his personal life began to unravel. His father-in-law, who had always been very assertive and domineering, frequently pressured Sunil to venture into business, a path that Sunil had no interest in pursuing. This ongoing insistence on business became a source of significant tension between them.
At the same time, Sunil found himself increasingly disillusioned with the work environment at Tata, where he was employed. The excessive workload and the pervasive culture of corruption among some of his superiors created an atmosphere that weighed heavily on his conscience. Sunil, who was never one to tolerate unethical practices, found himself at a crossroads. Unable to reconcile his values with the work environment, he made the difficult decision to leave the company.
By this point, Sunil and his wife had a young son, and the pressures of his professional life were compounded by the strained dynamics at home. His wife, who had a very different outlook on life, not only continued to encourage him to start a business but also became increasingly unsupportive of his personal decisions. She expected him to align with her father’s business interests, which created even greater emotional stress for Sunil. The lack of support from his wife, combined with the weight of family expectations, gradually led him down a path of escapism.
In response to the mounting pressure, Sunil began to turn to alcohol as a coping mechanism. What began as an occasional drink soon escalated into a regular habit. His father-in-law’s influence, coupled with his wife’s lack of understanding and support, caused him to feel trapped and isolated. Compounding his distress, Sunil discovered that his father-in-law had been investing his salary through his daughter without Sunil’s knowledge, and his wife held control over all the family’s jewelry. This revelation, coupled with the increasing emotional strain, left Sunil feeling powerless and betrayed.
As the situation at home deteriorated, Sunil’s marriage took a turn for the worse. His wife left the household, and shortly thereafter, he received a divorce notice. Not only was he denied access to his daughter, but he was also falsely accused of various grievances, with alcohol being used as a tool to discredit him. The weight of these false allegations, combined with the overwhelming emotional toll, led Sunil into a state of deep depression. His life spiraled further, and he became increasingly dependent on alcohol to numb the pain.
Despite his best efforts to recover, Sunil was never able to fully emerge from the shock of his broken marriage and the emotional devastation that accompanied it. While he does not drink every day, he finds himself battling cravings for alcohol every four to six months. During these periods of emotional turmoil, Sunil often resorts to drinking, and although he does not exhibit violent tendencies, his personality undergoes a noticeable shift. When sober, Sunil is his usual sensible, affectionate, and helpful self, traits that have always endeared him to those around him. However, when consumed by depression, his behavior changes, and his once steady temperament becomes erratic.
As a mother, it pains me to see my son in this state. He is naturally a quiet, caring, and introspective individual, always willing to lend a helping hand to those in need. Unfortunately, Sunil’s greatest flaw is his profound sensitivity. He is too easily affected by the emotions and opinions of others, often failing to recognize that the world can be harsh and unrelenting. His idealism and trusting nature, while admirable in many ways, have left him vulnerable to the harsh realities of life.
In retrospect, I believe that his decision to marry the wrong person has had a devastating impact on his life. His marriage, rather than being a source of support and companionship, became a battleground for conflicting expectations, and ultimately, it led to his emotional and psychological unraveling. Despite the years that have passed, Sunil has not fully recovered from the trauma of his failed marriage and the betrayal he felt from those he trusted most.
Although he has made strides in managing his addiction, the road to recovery is not without its challenges. Every day is a new battle for him, and the emotional scars he carries continue to affect his overall well-being. As a mother, I am deeply concerned for him, but I also know that it is up to Sunil to find the strength within himself to heal and move forward.
Sunil is a good man at his core, one who is capable of great resilience and strength. I can only hope that with time, the emotional wounds will heal, and that he will come to understand that the world, while often unforgiving, does not have to define him. My deepest wish for him is that he learns to let go of his past hurts, embrace his own worth, and find a path to true peace and fulfillment.
Arjun, 27yrs
Arjun’s Redemption: A Journey from Despair to Hope
Arjun (name changed) embarked on a life journey that took him from the heights of success to the depths of despair, and back again—transforming from a prosperous construction business owner to a broken man at the mercy of alcohol. His story is one of incredible struggle, perseverance, and ultimately, redemption.
At the tender age of 18, Arjun began his own construction business, armed with nothing but ambition, determination, and a relentless work ethic. His entrepreneurial spirit bore fruit as his business flourished, bringing with it the fruits of his labor. He bought a house, ensured his sister had a proper wedding, and became the epitome of a responsible, successful young man. His life seemed to be following the ideal trajectory, one that many would envy.
However, life took an unexpected and devastating turn when his girlfriend ended their relationship. This emotional blow, far greater than any he had ever encountered, left Arjun broken and searching for solace. Unable to cope with the pain and the overwhelming sense of loss, he turned to alcohol, seeking temporary relief in the bottom of a bottle. The solace he found in drinking became the refuge he desperately sought, and at the age of 23, his slow descent into alcoholism began.
What followed was the destruction of everything Arjun had worked so hard to build. Alcohol took over his life, isolating him from friends, family, and colleagues. His business, once a symbol of his hard work and success, crumbled under the weight of his addiction. Every penny he earned was spent on alcohol, each drink a fleeting moment of escape from the harsh reality of his broken heart. Despite several attempts to seek help, including a stint in a rehabilitation center, Arjun found himself on a collision course with self-destruction. His condition worsened, and he became increasingly unable to control his craving for alcohol. His body began to rebel against him—he could no longer function without a drink. The tremors, anxiety, and overwhelming urge to drink rendered him unable to work, leading to his eventual dismissal from his job.
By the time Arjun reached his lowest point, he was utterly defeated. He had lost everything—his business, his friends, his family, and his self-respect. At rock bottom, he found himself staggering, intoxicated and broken, through the corridors of Sassoon Hospital, hoping against hope that he might find something to hold on to. It was in this moment of despair, with nothing left to lose, that a divine intervention seemed to occur. In the hospital’s reception area, Arjun’s eyes fell upon a poster for Santulan Rehabilitation and De-addiction Centre, located in Yerwada, Pune. The poster promised a new chance at life—a lifeline for someone drowning in the grip of addiction.
Desperate for help, Arjun picked up the phone and called the founder of Santulan, Mr. Dwijen Smart. In an extraordinary act of faith and compassion, Mr. Smart guided him to the center, even though Arjun had no means of paying for the services or any guardian to take responsibility for him. Mr. Smart saw something in Arjun—a glimmer of hope, a potential for change—when Arjun could see nothing but the ruins of his own life. With kindness, understanding, and a belief in Arjun’s capacity for transformation, Mr. Smart accepted him into the program, not just as a patient, but as a person deserving of a second chance.
The path to recovery, however, was not an easy one. Arjun’s first challenge at Santulan was to endure the harrowing withdrawal symptoms that accompany the body’s adjustment to life without alcohol. Withdrawal from alcohol is notoriously difficult, and Arjun was no exception. He experienced hallucinations, tremors, palpitations, excessive sweating, low appetite, and a profound sense of hopelessness. These symptoms were not just physical but deeply psychological, leaving him feeling as though he was battling against his own body. Yet, it was through this very struggle that Arjun began to understand the nature of his addiction—an illness that could only be managed through acceptance and commitment to recovery.
Through a combination of group therapy, individual counseling, psychiatric visits, yoga, meditation, and medication, Arjun slowly began to rebuild his life. Each day, he regained a small piece of the self-confidence he had lost. The process was arduous, but with each passing day, he began to realize that overcoming addiction was not just about quitting alcohol—it was about changing his mindset and accepting responsibility for his actions.
Santulan, under the compassionate leadership of Mr. Dwijen Smart, offered Arjun more than just medical treatment. They trusted him and gave him small tasks within the center’s office, helping him regain a sense of purpose. The act of being entrusted with responsibilities was a pivotal moment in Arjun’s recovery. It helped him rediscover his self-worth and realize that he could still contribute meaningfully to society. The center’s unwavering faith in him played a significant role in his healing, as it provided him with the opportunity to prove to himself that he was capable of change.
As time went on, Santulan arranged for Arjun to undergo training at Mahindra Motors in Bhosari. This opportunity proved to be a turning point. Arjun excelled in his training, demonstrating a remarkable work ethic and determination. His outstanding performance led to a permanent position at Mahindra Motors, providing him with a stable job and the foundation for rebuilding his life. Arjun, once a man lost in the throes of addiction, now found himself gainfully employed and sober. He had rediscovered his purpose and his strength, and for the first time in many years, he felt truly alive.
Today, Arjun leads a simple, focused life. His primary goal is to maintain his sobriety, work on his self-awareness, and continue improving as a person. While the scars of his past remain, he no longer allows them to define him. He has found peace in accepting the past for what it was and has learned to face life’s challenges without turning to substances. Arjun’s journey has come full circle—he now actively volunteers at Santulan, offering support and hope to others who are facing the same struggles he once did.
Arjun’s story is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. Life, in all its unpredictability and hardship, has the power to break us down, but it is through the process of rebuilding ourselves that we find our true strength. In Arjun’s case, the journey was long and fraught with pain, but it was also one of redemption. His experience teaches us that no matter how far we fall, there is always a way back. It is in the courage to stand up again, to fight for our future, that the true meaning of life is revealed.
Arjun’s redemption is not just a story of recovery—it is a story of hope, of transformation, and of the power of second chances. His life, once lost in darkness, now shines as a beacon of possibility for others struggling in the depths of despair.
A success story
We take immense pride in this remarkable achievement by one of our patients, who successfully attained sobriety through the unwavering dedication of our team. Our approach goes beyond mere de-addiction; we focus on rebuilding self-confidence and empowering our patients to regain control of their lives. Through personalized care and support, we ensure that they not only overcome their addiction but also develop the strength and resilience to stand on their own feet and continue walking forward, one step at a time. This accomplishment serves as a testament to the transformative power of determination, care, and community support.